


Cherchez La Femme

by Elfen1012



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Anachronistic, Corrin and Azura are not related, Detective Noir, Drama & Romance, F!Corrin - Freeform, F/F, Organized Crime, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfen1012/pseuds/Elfen1012
Summary: The relative death of inter-mob violence has come to an end as Detective Azura begins to investigate a murder that could set both Dusk and Dawn side Valla ablaze again, a case that only expands when Corrin, sister of the primary suspect, comes to her looking to unravel the truth behind this murder and the storm to follow. Could this seemingly “innocent” mobster just be what Azura needed, or is this just another plot to throw her off? It’s getting harder to tell every day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Azura Arete**

 

     “Say farewell to peace. Great job Nohrians.”

     Azura ignored Takumi, it’s not hard when there so much information all around her. So many details to frame and catalogue. It always starts the same, she takes a full snapshot from the temple entrance. Grabs the base of the whole crime scene, incase anyone contaminates anything or a breeze blows away something she could miss. This polaroid would act as the center framing device when she revisited this scene on the wall.

     It captured the key elements of the scene. The Dawn Dragon Temple, three bodies found, all male, all amputated with assorted lacerations, Azura’s working theory was post mortem. Blood was smeared across the face of the Dawn statue dragon, intentional defacement of Hoshido tradition. It was morning by the time Azura got there, the murder was in the open, discovered at the crack of Dawn, _religious significance?_

     “Who's holding the perimeter?” Azura asked she she moved onto other, more detailed shots. The blood pooling on the stone walkway, messier than she would have thought. The humid air of autumn kept it from evaporating despite how hot it must have been leaving the body at the dead of night.

     “Oboro, Hinata, the best,” _His best,_ “Oh and Hinoka’s handling the crowd,” _better,_ “No one to bother you while you figure out the obvious.” The obvious was what bothered Azura. She took another photo of the statue. There were cracks of something smacking against the stone work that connected its wings. Azura could see the reflection of metallic bits in the powder left from the damage. Someone took a pickaxe… no something sharp to the limbs. Someone had tried to cut them off, she surmised. They failed, or changed their mind.

     “Detective Takumi, what then is the obvious?” Azura continues her work, only half interesting in his answer. Takumi wasn’t a bad detective per say, just not an objective one. On a robbery turned bad he has a sharp eye, but not today. Today he’s fidgeting, playing with the cuffs of his white and blue stripe suit. It was new.

     When the primary victim was Fuga Nageyari, chief of the second largest Hoshidan gang, the Wind Tribe, and the primary peacemaker with the Nohrian controlled Dusk Side Gangs, Takumi can’t be objective.

     “Nohrians hit them; in a sick way with Sumeragi dead it makes sense to topple the head of the next biggest snake. It matches their tactics perfectly. Hell, I can give you the killer too. Her name’s written all over this.”

     Of course it’s wasn’t. Instead there is the victims. Fuga, his son Hayato, and a currently unidentified Hoshido male with Wind Tribe tattoos Another photo revealed they were killed without a struggle, if they were truly killed on premises, which Azura still suspected to be the case. The bodies were evidently hacked up with an axe, patterns consistent with likely, but not certainly, a single left handed assailant. Limbs were detached but not arranged in a particular patterns, but strew about with intentional randomness.

_He thinks it’s Camilla._

     “It’s Camilla Siegfried. Psychopath likes to take an axe out when she scares businesses into paying protection. Just like when that monster ‘accidentally’—”

     “Camilla uses her axe as a scare tactic. Whenever Nohrian enforcers commit murder, its more efficient. Poison or a single bullet wound, occasional shootout, but nothing like this. Camilla’s rumored to dismember victims, but there’s never been any evidence of it.” Technically no hard evidence of anything ever found it’s way to Camilla, especially after she did time for manslaughter. There was a dark sea between knowing and proving in Valla, but this still didn’t match Nohrian MO, especially since Xander took over.

_Don't be over reliant on patterns during times of change Azura._

     “So we found out the rumors about her are true, I mean are you surprised? Wait what are you doing?”

     “I need to check something, don’t fret please.” Azura pushed back the heavy strands of her hair, straight and smooth it obeyed her every command. She couldn’t risk getting loose sample in the wound. Sliding a glove on she pushed back the bloodiest fissure, one the assailant had landed right on the rib cage, repeatedly. Having peeled back the wound, she felt inside something deeply interesting. A slight texture of a burn. _From a bullet perhaps?_

     “Azura, that’s the coroners job. We look the other way from time to time, but I can only pretend to not see you screw around too much before you get us both get slammed.”

     Azura sighed, letting the body rest and peeled back her gloves. Another pair ruined, she wondered how many she could steal from medical without them noticing.

     “So, Camilla right?”

     “Most likely, I’m afraid,” Azura replied to a scowling takumi, rubbing her clean hands instinctively against the fabric of her blue trench coat. Something felt off. There was no struggle, this is Hoshidan territory, if Camilla had a crew big enough to kill them all, how did no one see them? Why was Fuga even here? Why would he respond to an obvious ambush by Camilla in person? Despite the questions, none of them made a different suspect more likely. The working theory might be weak, but its still the best working theory.

     “Hey guys!” A familiar voice managed to push up a soft smile on Azura’s lips. The cheery tones and eager footsteps of her favorite officer in all of Valla. Hinoka. “I found a possible murder weapon!”

     “Found a,” Takumi stuttered as his eyes clenched closed like someone just took a bat to his legs, Hinoka was not Detective Takumi’s favorite officer. “you’re supposed to be holding the perimeter and keeping people out with Oboro!” She was his older sister.

     “Calm down, I got Setsuna and Asami on it, I thought I’d take a look at the grounds, see if I noticed something, and oh did I.” Though Azura would have prefered she not move it at all, a sigh of relief came when the white color of gloves caught the eye. The .45 in her hands was untainted as was ostentatious, gold flowering was engraved on the grip and the slide altered to be reminiscent of the Dawn Dragon.

     “Good morning Hinoka, I appreciate the added eyes,” Azura noted once she got a closer look. Hinoka had a confident smirk, pleased with herself, as much as Azura was with her discovery. “Could you remove the magazine and clear the chamber please?”

     “Do you think it’s the murder weapon?” she asked, excited to do as was told.

     “No,” Takumi answered for Azura, his own eyes catching the extra detail she just did. The barrel had a Wind Tribe stamp at the end.

     “It’s likely Fuga’s,” Azura elaborated as a single bullet popped out of the slide, “Could you please press on the top round, see if there's give.” Hinoka did so and it was locked tight, either the magazine was unfired or reloaded before it was tossed. Azura suspected the former. “Where did you find it?”

     “In the bushes behind that alter, it was just lying in the dirt sitting— Whoa that is grizzly.” She must have seen the scene behind Azura, though the comment did not pull her eyes from the alter.

     If it was Fuga’s gun, and it likely was, the Nohrian MO would be to take it. They looted kills, either to mask them as robberies gone wrong, too wrong in this case, or just in favor of not wasting equipment, Azura wasn’t sure which. They didn’t toss it so haphazardly. No experienced murderer would if they bothered to consider it evidence.

     What would Fuga see that would make him toss his own weapon? Camilla with an Axe would definitely not encourage Azura’s disarmament.

     “Azura,” The rapid thoughts flashed to nothing as her yellow eyes looked back to a concerned Detective Takumi. More people were here, another crew. The specialists. “If you want to finish up taking your pictures, the circus is here.”

     “Yes, thank you.”

     Just one more run to clear her thoughts and formalize her professional opinion. Then, really what comes next was up to Chief Ryoma and him alone.

 

* * *

  


     “It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. It’s a new life for me, yeah—”

“You really like Nohrian music don’t you.” Takumi interrupted Azura mid song and mid thought. While he drove, she turned on the radio, playing her favorites and singing along as they passed the dense streets of Valla. Jazz wasn’t strictly Nohrian in any sense, but it was popular with the working class, and Nohrian immigrants were nothing if not poor.

     “I’ve always been partial to Music.” Jazz most definitely included. Takumi grimaced like he smelled something awful, as if they weren’t use to the Dusk Side’s ambient trash scent. Azura wondered how he’d react to her moonlighting with a song or four every other week at Cyrkensia, not that she expected him to to wander his way into a mob-owned, gay club in the near future.

     “I prefer classical,” he added, trying to be diplomatic, “I enjoy music having a tight structure, Jazz is a little too..”

     “It’s unpredictability is it’s charm.” Not that Jazz lacked structure, it just lent itself to passion and spontaneity.  The freedom to improvise helped Azura relax, it’s why singing and listening to music now, was so important. A blank stare, a preoccupied voice, a solid bit of brass, it all helped her focus on the case itself.

     “I guess it's got that,” Takumi landed flatley as he made the sharp right to cut back into Dawn Side. They shaved minutes by avoiding Dawn Side’s more car rich streets, thought passing the invisible canyon between them would never stop being jarring. Suddenly the roads had medians with planted trees, cars flooded the roads, houses had yards and most apparent at night one could see neon signs begin to vanish, replaced with proper consistent streetlights. The city had pumped so much money into Dawn Side lately, despite being a mostly immigrant community. Azura supposed the Vallites, and the Mayor respectively, considered them a different brand of immigrant.

     Azura didn’t bother to reply, she needn’t and Takumi didn’t truly wish to interrupt her anyways. Really he wanted the radio off, but alas. It was easier to compile with it. Chief Ryoma was not a violent man, but he would see things as Takumi does, in her own way she did as well. Though the evidence was suspicious, crimes are more likely poorly performed than part of a bigger plot. Suspicion was not grounds to official hold back a recommendation to pull Camilla into the station. If they could even get to her.  

     Azura felt like she was missing something, and if someone was playing her, to do just as expect felt nauseating. She could sing _I’m Feelin’ Good_ all she wanted, but as the car lurched to a stop in front of the Station, painted a fresh red and white, she certainly didn’t feel good.

 

     “Detective Azura, g-good morning,” Sakura stuttered from behind the secretary desk right as they entered the second floor, she seemed even more pensive that morning, though Azura lacked the time for it. “You have a visitor waiting for you.”

     “Could you beg their apologies. I need to speak to Ryoma.” Azura hated walking right past her like most of the detectives did. She was young, inexperienced, and people often said she was only hired on because she was Ryoma’s sister, but she was trying, and a sweet thing. A source of gentleness that was cruely ignored. “Oh, and yes good morning.” Azura  added even as Sakura fell out of view. Takumi laughed.

     “You seem excited. Want to bring her down huh?” Takumi certainly did.

     “I have all the excitement of a death row inmate, after you Detective Takumi.” Azura grinned almost invisibly as she held Ryoma’s office door open for him with her cane. He was happy to face him first.

     “Good morning.” If there was ever a voice that could snug itself comfortably between booming and calm, Ryoma would be it’s wielder. He took to authority, his shoulders leveled enough to make paintings jealous. His manners impeccable, tea prepared for three on his desk and chairs pulled out. “I’ve been given a briefing, but if you could please, Azura give me the details.”

     She was happy to, pictures included.

     When it came to details, it was her eye that was trusted, her natural talent to become the perfect observer. That talent let her take just a few details and turn it into an hour break down. Takumi was content to let her take the reigns here as usual. Interrogation, interview, that sort of thing was where his excellence as a detective shown through.

     “In your expert opinion then, would pursuing Ms. Camilla Siegfried and her team as our primary suspects be our best move?” He leaned back, likely having already made a choice in his head, but Azura always knew him as a man to take the insights of others seriously, especially her’s.

     “Of course,” Takumi insisted before taking a tentative final sip of the tea, he burned through it faster, a jittery habit Azura took note of.

     “We have nothing but conjecture, we won’t be able to get an enforceable warrant for her arrest yet,” Azura countered and received a glowering look from her partner in return, “but no better option for primary suspect has presented itself.” From there, Azura retreats to her own tea, enjoying the orange tinge to it, and not enjoying the hot seat.

     Ryoma nodded and took a moment, arms crossed with his face caught in a frozen expression that while serious betrayed no emotion. He was not a man to rush into a poor decision, but neither was he indecisive. There was no surprise when no more than a minute in, a decision was made.

     “Fuga’s death will cause disorder, something like this can not happen with impunity. Takumi, I trust you to assign a team to try find out where Camilla is and if anyone has anything to say, even if it leads nowhere, officers in pursuit will discourage any further violence. Azura, I need you to be ready when the coroner's report comes in. Keep a clear head and pull in whatever data you need.”

     “I don’t believe she’ll come in for questioning,” Azura noted, getting a smile from Ryoma.

     “Of course she won’t, but we can’t lay down and ignore cruelty like this.” That earned a small grin from Azura. The former chief would have made the same decision, but prompted by the mayor, the press, his job. Ryoma, he moved because it was just. Such a thing kept her in the department and her P.I.s license unused. “I’ll be spending the better part of my day switching between the prosecutors office and trying to get even a word out of Xander before he forwards me to his lawyer. You’re excused detectives.”

     “Thank you,” the two of them uttered with deeply disparate levels of enthusiasm.

 

     Before, Azura even made the trek to her office, Takumi cut her off at the end of the hall, right before the curve towards Sakura’s reception desk.

     “You know, considering you gave the exact same suggestion in the end, care to tell me why you had to throw me under the bus first? You could have at least warned me, What the hell is your deal.” His cheeks blushed an embarrassed red. Looking like a fool in front of Ryoma was a well known nerve, but one Azura couldn’t always avoid plucking. Partners or no, his approval meant several leagues more than hers.

     “I needed Ryoma to see the whole picture before we—”

     “You needed to hedge your bets so no matter what happens you’re still the half right brilliant detective while I just carry your bag. That’s the real story.” His fists balled, the pressure enough for them to noticeably shake. Despite being the same height he leaned forward as if to dwarf her, make her feel small.

     Azura stared forward, an expression cold and detached. In the end, he would not lay a hand on her, with that determined, what was there to be afraid of?

     “So you’ve decided. Can you please move out of the way.”

     “Is that really all you’re going to say to—”

     “E-excuse me,” Sakura, a little thing, but Azura could see the red of her hair beyond Takumi’s shoulders. Whether she was nervous about interrupting this conversation, or any in general was unknown, “Detective Azura, I uh, really need you please.”

     To that, the detective let herself grin and brushed back some of her blue hair to let her see it. Unafraid she walked right through Takumi, who was smart enough to step out of her way before his pride was bruised by a shoulder bump. She continued passed Sakura but waved for her to follow.

     “I’m in your debt with that rescue,” she whispered.

     “No, It was nothing,” Sakura blushed, she had to speed walk to keep up with Azura’s longer legs, but the detective couldn’t slow down lest Takumi think they weren’t both painfully busy. “But I uh-I did need you.”

     Azura’s eye glanced back to see no one following them,  hopefully a sign her partner had calmed down and returned to his more amiable demeanor. “Oh yes, the visitor, did you give them my apologies? Perhaps left you a number for me to reach them.”

     “No, I mean yes, to the first, but no to the second, they didn’t leave me a number because—”

     “Is that music?” Azura heard a beat in the distance, a soulful voice muffled by the sealed door to her office. _The radio?_ If she’d had left it on, Takumi would have ribbed her all morning for it, half the department would have, and justly. “Someone’s in my office.”

     “Y-yes, your visitor’s still here.” And playing with her radio. A useful trick if one wanted to cover up the sounds of rummaging through her office. _Looking for records?_

     Azura didn’t hesitate, she wiped the door open, hand on the the switch of her cane and hoping that the invader didn’t have a gun ready and the kind of mad courage it took to commit a murder in the police station.

     She had envisioned a man, strong, robust as he was dangerous, or perhaps one of the Nohrian mobs enforcers in their clean black suits and sharp cut faces marred by scars. Azura didn’t expect a girl with skin and hair albino white with a contrasting black dress with gold accents and a silver pin in her headband. She didn’t expect her to be singing the notes quietly off key, or dancing with the rhythm sliding off her shoulders.

     Instead of an assailant with a gun, Azura was shocked with a beautiful girl with an embarrassed blush that matched her wide lovely eyes. Especially when, after just a few seconds of surprised frozen thought as they stared at each other in shocked Azura put a name to that faintly reminiscent face.

     Corrin Siegfried, third child, _third in line_ , to the largest crime family in all of Valla.

     “Oh gods, I’m sorry. I was just waiting so long; I thought I’d put on some music. I promise I didn’t change your station even!”

     “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” Sakura rushed out and closed the door, leaving Azura in a room what she knew to be a tiger, even if it looked, acted, and smiled with all the sweetness butterfly as she shifted nervously on the balls of her feet. The Siegfried women were all rumored to be beautiful by description, and Camilla was perhaps the only human to ever look stunning in a mug shot and though she had only seen it at a distance, Elise was quite pretty, but Azura hadn't predicted Corrin to be as striking especially not reeking of innocence, manufactured or otherwise.

     “Oh, yes, introductions, my name is Corrin Yato-Siegfried,” she stuck out her hand while Azura tripped on the obviously Hoshido addition to her last name.

     “Yes, I know. Detective Azura Arete.” Cautiously she took her hand. Her grip was far stronger than Azura would have thought, even as her eyes noted quickly the visible outline of Corrin’s developed muscles.

     “I know you too, you’re Valla’s greatest detective, private ones included,” Corrin brushed her hair back as soon as Azura dropped her hand, likely unaware of what to do with them. Azura didn’t imagine she was use to being in a station, or talking to officers, many of whom devote their lives to destroying her and her family. Azura included to some extent.

     “I am _a_ detective. Were you called into questioning?” Seemed impossibly quick, but Azura couldn’t find a better explanation to why she was standing in her office, back against her bookcase of horror fiction, playing with her radio and waiting on an officer.

     “No, no one called me, I’m here on my own, minus my drivers, but they’re waiting in my car.” _Drivers_ , a person only ever need one, Azura could guess the second half of their job.

     “I’m assuming you're not here to confess to today's murders, and I know you’re definitely not here to enjoy a day listening to music with me—”

     “No to the confessing, but the second sounds fun, we could talk about books though I don’t think our genre’s match.” Her laugh was nervous, as it was distracting from the real point.

     “But it’s not why you’re here Ms. Yato-Siegfried.”

     “No, it’s not,” she sighs as her red eyes scan Azura over, looking for something, “And please, call me Corrin.”  

     “What do you want with me, Corrin?” Azura took back control, sliding around her natural opposition and taking her rightful place behind her desk, though she did not sit down nor let go of her cane.

     Corrin seemed to notice, her eyes reverted from soft and sweet to something strong and passionate. She shared a vague resemblance, if shallowly, with Ryoma in that moment.

     “Three innocent men died today and if I don’t do something, the ones who did it will get away. So I intend to do something, and that begins with hiring you, the best detective in Valla.” So it was about today's murders. Perhaps… had the girl gone rogue? Was she like Ryoma? Born into a crime family, but estranged from them? Much later in life than her chief’s however.

     “I’m not a P.I.” Either way it hardly mattered. Azura couldn’t take a case privately, especially not one from a known criminal circuit running concurrently with her public case.

     “You are licensed to be one,” Corrin notes, her voice trailing up with excitement, utterly blind to how creepy it was that she knew that.

     “I’m already on the case Ms. Yato-Siegfried. I’m a detective for the city.”

     “Corrin, and I’m guessing you’re next move will be to look for Camilla, she didn’t do it and you’re not going to find her without a court order.” So it wasn’t a betrayal. Azura hoped the shift in her brow didn’t give away her interest. “As a P.I. you have more freedom to work and deal with people who wouldn’t ordinarily talk to you.”

     “Like yourself. I wouldn’t be liable to report you.” Not that it wouldn’t be grounds to fire her on the spot and still too easy to twist into obstruction of justice, “However, as it’s a conflict of interest, I can’t use that excuse.”

     “Are you afraid I’ll report you?” Corrin laughed and Azura couldn’t fight off a slight smile, “I know you’ve taken cases outside of official channels before. I know some people you helped investigate a cold murder before. I understand bending the rules when it means saving lives. I want you to do that with me now.” Azure scowled despite herself. Her moonlighting was garnering too much attention, especially if a Siegfried was taking note. Far too much.

     “The case isn’t cold.”

     “It will be, and when it is, it’s going to bring out violence.”

     Azura choked, if silently, on that. Things were...tense, but peaceful lately. Ever since Garon had an...accident. Murders down, robberies down, for once the vice teams were busier than homicide. That was precious.

     “And if the Siegfrieds are responsible?” Azura humored.

     “Whoever it is, we’ll do what’s right by the people who have already died, even my family.”

     “I’ve never met a moralist mobster.”

     “I’m not a mobster, despite what you’ve probably heard. Right here, I’m just a girl trying to do what's right,” there was a moment of silence, accented as the station switched between songs. “With a lot of money too...if that helps?” That did it, Azura shook her head and let her shoulders slug as the need to giggle hit her hard. Corrin broke into a full laugh, the tension just drained. What a odd mess this mobster.

     “Ms. Corrin Yato-Siegfried, you are unexpected,” Azura softened almost excited as this mornings song played again. “ I believe we have terms to discuss.”


	2. Gangster's Paradise

**The Lady of the Lake: Azura Arete**

 

**Trigger Warning: Non-derogatory use of the word qu*er, homophobia mentioned**

 

     Brass and piano kept their pace throughout Azura’s altered rendition of Gangster’s Paradise despite the speed she swam through the lyrics. She’d long since mastered the flow of each beat, passion dripping from her lips, mournful with this timely warning of the danger looming. The song itself had its roots in the hopeless sectarian violence that had dominated Dusk Side in her youth. Though the room danced with her under the pink triangle that marked Cyrkensia as the sanctuary it was, she hoped some of the mobsters— as what gay club could safely exist under the heavy eyes of the city without their protection— would hear the pain that soaked every word.  

     Though Cyrkensia was nothing compared to the fortress she’d intend to cross into the mouth of. The simple truth, tonight veiled in black and moving with the grace of the churning waters, the now  little famous Lady of the Lake was here not for her fans. She came because Azura’s mom had taught her to sing out all her fears, and her’s numbered in the thousands.

     After signing a deal with the devil in white just yesterday, this Corrin had set up the first interview that will no doubt gild or crumble her future as a detective. They’d leave tonight for the largest gay club in all of Dusk Side— and the only one she had never dared to enter—  Windmire, an unassuming throne of the Queer mob, one Xander’s many puppet organizations. 

     She didn’t think she’d find Camilla there, even if rumors said she’d frequented the place, but it was an in, a way to work up the chain for clues. An in that can cost her job twice over. 

     The music wasn’t enough, Azura felt restless even as she washed up in the green room, left empty as the manager Olivia had sworn to her it would be after every show. A meager seven dollars awaited her for two hours of song, not that Azura could even fret about that. She stripped from black to a blue coat, the dancer packed it away in a briefcase and the detective strolled out to the notice of no one. 

     Corrin would meet her at the apartment exactly at ten so in turn she’d need to be early. The journey was a short walk, especially with jitters and the fall chill biting her as she strolled up to the pitifully smashed townhouse she called a home. A family home that had only dropped in value since the city had grown, but one she’d never give up even if she had to have iron bars installed on the windows and grow okay with the way spray paint made a collage of her front door. 

     Inside, her home was warm despite the spartan decor. Extravagance could still be found in the woodwork and painted gold inlays or in the traditional Valinite hanging scrolls that now frayed at the ends from her grandparents, but the peeling wallpaper had not been replaced, touch jobs ignored. No fine vases lined the walls or paintings purchased in her lifetime. She could afford it now, but spectres of the past were rarely shaken so easily as that. 

     She only needed a few minutes to prepare: notepad, pens, her cane and badge, in her coat pocket of course, but paranoia kept her early. Had the luxury of time now, to plot out her notes and, shocking as it was, answer an unexpected call.

     “Hello, Arete residence, I’m no longer taking cases.”

     “Azura, it’s Takumi.”

     “Oh,” a pause before Azura thought to continue, “good evening.”

     “Yeah, good evening… I wanted to apologize.”

     He sounded so faded, almost washed out by the breaking of a car outside, hell almost by the sound of his pacing thanks to the wooden floor he had installed in his home.

     “For what specifically.” A line that had never earned Azura friends before, but did give her insight to whether an apology was an admission or a request for absolution. 

     “I really don’t need you making this more difficult,” and neither did she when a car was rumbling outside. Still, the boy would never learn to speak earnestly unchallenged.

     “I do.”

     “I know you do,” he sighed on the other line finally standing still, she guessed, from the sudden stop in the rythmic groan of wood. “I got too focused on proving myself to Ryoma, this whole thing has me shaken up. Fuga was a criminal, but he did a lot for my community. Ryoma needs the Hoshidans on the force to be strong… and it’s hard to, you know.” 

     “You aren’t letting him down Takumi,” a car door popped outside and the tension rose ever so sharply in the air. He couldn’t see her, but when a voice is heard, it’s hard to remember they are half a city away. “And we won’t. I intend to catch the ones responsible, I assure you.” 

     “I know you do, you’ve always been the best on the force,” Takumi dropped to a whisper, saying such a thing was far more difficult than any apology. 

     “I’ll still need you,” Azura lectured as sweetly as she could. “I just need you calm, it’s hard to work with your hands around my throat.” Then came a knock that made her jump. “I need to go, Takumi.”

     “Yeah,” he whispered. “Be careful Azura, it could be dangerous. Not running around Dusk Side at night alone are you?”

     “No, perish the thought.” The knock came again, a quick look through the peephole caught a Corrin on the other side, almost shocking Azura with her shift in style. Black dress pants, white button up shirt, suspenders, and rolled up sleeves that showed off her muscles. Her long hair and headband clashed with such a butch look, but there was charm to be found in it. Less in the bulk of the man behind her. “I haven’t even a lead to follow.” 

     “Call me when you do.”

     “I will.” 

     Azura hung up and opened the door in one unified motion. 

     “Evening,” Azura offered, but only opened enough to reveal herself. The stranger behind Corrin had every sign of a storied mafioso; his faced had been scarred by either a bottle or some sort of serrated knife.He stood at such a straight angle Euclid would be proud, and even as his hair turned whiter than the dead and vanished, Azura had no question that this meager door could never hold him back. 

     “Evening. I’m sorry am I early?” Corrin asked looking up to her associate.He shook his head no.

     “You’re on time Corrin, but I did not expect to play host to two.”

     Corrin’s eyes went wide and a rush of pink spread over her cheeks. Azura realized for an albino hiding embarrassment it must be a nightmare.

     “Oh, he’s my driver, Gunter. He’s harmless, right Gunter?” 

     “A pleasure to meet you ma’am.” He offers Azura his hand, gloved in black leather with an almost imperceptible tremor, a sign of physical trauma she guessed. 

     “Charmed.” He proved gentle in his shake at least.

     “I guess I should have driven here by myself, but I thought, well, I should give you the full… experience, I guess,” Corrin interjected, her arm half heartedly offering the gold trim midnight lincoln behind her, a very… Nohrian aesthetic for a luxury car. 

     “Yes, the full gangster experience, I suppose.” Azura gripped her cane and offered very little room to negotiate, shuting the door immediately behind her. She locked it twice before satisfied. 

     “I meant the Siegfried experience,” Corrin clarified, for no one in the mafia was fool enough to admit the whole truth to any woman of the law. 

     “Quite,” Azura replied as the trunk sprung open.

     “For your cane, Ma’am.” Gunter seemed not at all affected by Azura’s toying with his boss. Not exactly happy to make her acquaintance, but frankly a being that defined detached. 

     “Thank you, Gunter,” Azura relented to him and looked back to her host and possible kidnapper depending on if she did poorly in the upcoming interview. “Corrin, I believe you were to shower me with the splendors of wealth?” 

     Corrin turned a shade or two riper as she tried to laugh it off. Though the suede black leather interior, the three, six inch thick frames, and lock box center console provided plenty of distraction and concerning oddities, it was hard to miss her date for the evening when she lit up like a beacon at the slightest provocation. 

     “Hey, only a little! I’m not trying to be your sugar mommy, I promise. We’re partners on a case, like real detectives. I just treat my partners  _ well _ .” She swung in from the other side, comfortable in such a lavish car in a way Azura didn’t think she ever could be. Corrin might not be able to handle the slightest pressures from a woman, though Azura hoped that made her more honest— and pardon the cynismism— easier for Azura to manipulate for information, but she definitely was at ease with far odder things. “Gunter, to Windmire please!”

     “I am a real detective, and I promise no partner of mine has tried to impress me half as hard yet.” 

     She glares at Azura, trying to read what she will not. Years of abuse, work, a hellscape city,  _ you’re not going to learn anything staring into my eyes Corrin. _

     “W-well, my brother always told me that in business you should aim to impress.” 

     “What a cheap cop-out, don’t you think so Mr. Gunter?”  

     “Gunter don’t you dare!”

     They hit a speed bump, Gunter flicked the switch on a radio, a sweet woman's voice came on with the brass of a familiar Norhian set. A gangsters car ride, a cop imprisoned unarmed, but Corrin’s hard to be scared of.

 

* * *

 

     Windmire was an infamous establishment, a beacon of color in Dusk Side that was brave enough to fly rainbow flags day and night, and given the sheer bulk of the bouncers, that bravery was warranted. Azura’s own escort through the flashy, smoke filled dance floor managed a Corrin and a half in height, squeezed tight into a pink suit that failed to suppress her bulk. 

     As the big band plucked away on a bass with a sax accompaniment that had Corrin following with a pop to her hips, an awkward faunt of joy between the unfeeling flesh golem Gunter turned out to be and the inherent hyper aware fear Azura had pumping through her body. She tried not to show it, but her eyes must have looked wild. She scanned for details, likely richer in facts than this interview would prove to be. 

     The club was still open for business, packed even.The coming storm hadn't hit the people inside whom vibrated with the voice of that husky singer rushing through them. Management however, were concerned. Azura could see construction, clearly recent and rushed, of extra locks on the doors, only a third of the windows had metal blinders, and construction equipment hid in the dark corners. Three bouncers at the front, one more behind the marble bar, one blocking the store room. Azura could almost smell the gambling going on there.Another two stood at the back entrance, though likely they handled the business of flesh. Lastly, two more stood by the VIP entrance up the spiral staircase to the hawks nest above the world. 

     The nest of Azura’s first source, a sharp climb up the rainbow painted steps that felt twice as hard as it was. There had been times she had considered coming here, but with a warrant and a police detail. Even that dream was filled with trepidation. The Queer mob was eighty miles from clean—  what puppet of the greater Nohrian mob wasn’t — however, they did provide a space… some protection to her own people. 

     All that, the fear, the little signals of a trap as she entered a lobby full of suits that eyed her than Corrin in confused suspicion. Her feelings of betrayal to both the force and the queer community was boxed up. Objectivism, coldness, calculation, all needed to come to bear once they opened the doors to the throne room of Windmire and face the Queen.

     “Corrin!” Despite seeing her in the papers, Azura couldn’t help but… she thought Elise Siegfried would be taller...

     “Oh my god! It’s so good to see you! Your highlights look great!” Azura couldn’t hold back an awkward cough watching her client literally pick a crime boss up in a hug and swing her around the office. That she managed two twirls without knocking down one of the many bookcases or pride flags that decorated a rather unassuming loft was rather impressive. No one else seemed perturbed by the display, neither of their guards Effie, Gunter, or what she assumed was another one of Elise’s men judging from his size, suit, notable gun, and chin like a cracked ball pein hammer. 

     “You need to visit more when things aren’t cascading off a cliff! I miss my big sister. It’s a lot nicer to hang out when you’re not dragging ‘detectives’ into my club,” Elise punctuated with an annoyed pout that made it hard to imagine that this tiny nineteen year old girl managed to usurp a small empire. It didn’t help that she seemed to prefer sundresses, purple highlights through her blonde curls, and floral patterns over the trench coat and shades aesthetic that had marked a stereotypical gangster. Or even Azura herself. “Speaking of which, Detective, were you patted down?”

     “Yes.” Effie, the woman in pink, hadn’t let her take a step inside without a painfully invasive search for a wire. Proved— if nothing else— that Corrin seemed the least cautious member of Siegfried’s. “I have a cane and a notepad. The notepad is not admissible in court, as it’s just my handwriting, if that wasn’t clear.” 

     “Pfft, I know~” Elise skirted herself out of Corrin’s arms and right into Azura’s personal bubble. “Corrin hopes you can prove Camilla’s innocent before the rest of the force pulls something dumb.If that’s true, it’s wonderful to meet you Detective Arete!” She gifted her hand and Azura couldn’t help but think it felt more like a request to kiss her ring than to shake. 

     “Corrin hired me to discover the truth, only that. Not prove her innocence.”

     “What’s the distinction, given my sister didn’t do it?”

     Azura shook her hand and took her seat in the leather couch opposite Elise’s desk.A one on one, despite the guards as an audience and Corrin as a nervous referee with her back to the glass wall that separated them from the club at large.

     “You’re Elise Siegfried, boss of Valla’s Queer mob, correct?”

     “I’m Elise Siegfried. I own Windmire, the largest gay club in the city and lead the Queer Workers Union, an association that helps find work for people in our community.” The first questions would set the baseline of trust and viability of information. Also gave her an excuse to note all the little oddities of the clubs security under the guise of record keeping. 

     “The same union with multiple members in prison for sale of illicit substances and prostitution?”

     “Uh, nope, not even a little, detective. The Union has been trying to get people out of the drug trade for as long as I’ve been in it. Dusk Sides drug problem has everything to do with the Chevois gangs. My community has enough problems without people abusing our pain and pushing heroine on us.” 

     An interesting argument Azura had to admit, considering the marijuana trade was absolutely dominated by the Nohrian mob dabbling in psychotropics. It also conveniently left out some of the accusation. 

     “Are you also denying that outside this very club there aren’t prostitutes available under your direct control?” 

     “Sex workers, and those kids wouldn’t be forced into it if the city actually treated us fairly and gave us traditional work. This clubs a safe haven, no matter what you do, if you’re part of this community we will keep you safe.” Azura wasn’t surprised to see Elise sell herself as a passionate paragon of the community. The station knew her as a gangster, but media at large admired and vilified her as an activist and rabble rouser. “We protect our kids, give all Queer people a happening  place to be, and we have a good time doing it. Have you ever enjoyed a Windmire night yourself, Azura? I can totally call you that right?” 

     She wanted to change the subject.

     “And you take money from these sex workers? Typically that would define you as a pimp.” 

     “No!” Elise’s blood colored her face and Azura nearly considered ducking in case of a book. “We take donations from people who we’ve found work, but it’s not something we demand. Sure lots of sex workers crash at Windmire when they’re desperate, but it’s all pay what you can, and no one brings their work into my club.”

     “Really? Because we once arrested a trans woman whom told us that for a small cut of their earnings Windmire offers protection. Something akin to a baseball bat to any client that gets violent.” 

     “Azura, she’s not lying, I know Elise wants to make something amazing out of this place.” Corrin entered and Azura barely spared her a glance before her analysis was tainted by those sad red eyes.Sentimentality would get in the way of an honest profile, whether either of them believed what she was saying or not. “Believe me.”

     “Noted. Elise, if you would continue?” 

     At first she said nothing, took a huff of air, leaned back, and let that famous Siegfried rage drain… if not all the way.  

     “In my honest opinion anyone who would hurt a poor girl trying to get by deserves a pair of broken legs,” Elise might have seemed less serious while she said it with all that cute and positive cheer, but Azura could see the family resemblance shine. “Azura, I may not be a super smart detective, but I’m getting a feeling this is not at all about what happened in Dawn Side.”

     “No it’s not,” Azura admitted, eyes drifting to her notes.  _ Elise: Half truths, avoids lying, Training against perjury? Asks questions to change subject. Distrusting. Talker. Proud. Charismatic, knows it. Wants to be liked. Dislikes drug trade. Confirmed rumors of pulling out of it, Confirmed protection racket, Exploitative? Dislikes being seen as a pimp. _ A profile constructed, now all information could be filtered with this as the standard. Azura almost thanked her for being such good participent. “I don’t suppose you’ll offer up Camilla’s location.”

     “Ha, no.”

     “I have to try at least once,” Azura joked to drain out the tension, letting a relaxed shrug and posture put Elise at ease. 

     And it worked.

     “I won’t hate ya for it cutie,” Elise stuck out her tongue and took whatever charm that flirting might have had and took a double barrel to it. Corrin seemed to agree with her soft giggles. 

     “Then let’s see if we can’t build a timeline.” 

     The story starts at nine-twenty, four hours and thirty-three minutes before time of death, Camilla enters the club with a shorter woman known as Beruka. Elise claims it’s not unusual and Corrin confirms. They share drinks with Elise, by her story at least two glasses of wine that she took in the very seat Azura compiled her scenario, an erie detail in and of itself. Nothing about the conversation lent itself to the murder, mention of crime could not be ruled out, but Elise had started pouting when questions strayed too far from Camilla and Fuga’s murder.

     “She left around eleven, was this odd?” Ever so terribly it was absolutely within the rational schedule for the murder. A two hour hole in her alibi if the drive was included. 

     “Um, no.My sisters not a drunk, she never stays till last call.”

     “It’s passed eleven now.”

     “That’s because Corrin is totally a drunk,” Elise was interrupted by a flying couch pillow. 

     “I  _ barely _ drink!” 

     Azura hid her reaction, the shocking spike in her pulse, the shudder in her lungs from a sudden exhale. Family or not, Azura would never think the head of  any of the Dusk Side mafias would take a cushion laughing.

     She did all the same.

     “Someone doesn’t wanna look bad. One day your little sister will teach you how to really hold your liquor.” Elise tossed in a wink that triggered Azura to audiably tap.

     “Considering your skill at holding liquor, you'll remember clearly the end of the night. Was there anything Camilla mentioned about where she was going, who she would see next?”

     Elise leaned back, eyes shifting down into the swirl of her pink mixed drink, watching the melting ice dance. Azura had come to notice this was her posture when deep in thought a good sign.

     “No, we were getting a little sentimental about family stuff, talked about Corrin some, about stuff growing up,” Elise kept thinking even as her lips ended in an uncomfortable pout.

     “Really?” The subject in question couldn’t help asking.

     “Yeah,” Elise went back to smiling, a shine in her eyes as she glanced at her sister, “she loves you kid, almost too much.Your little sisters not getting the affection she deserves.” Despite her pout, Elise gave a small wink just to make sure Corrin didn’t take it to heart.

     “That’s it?”

     “Yeah, she just left right after with Beruka and drove off.”

     “And did you hear from her again? Did she call you or speak to an associate?”

     “No,” Elise answered and torched up Camilla’s alibi in one swoop, “she went home. How often are you up this late?”

     “Often,” Azura paused for a sigh. “The next morning, did you hear from her? Or what happened to Fuga?” Sure that was a leading question, implying that Elise would know at all might make her comfortable enough to admit that Nohr knew, and too early to match the timeline.

     “No.” Azura felt her teeth clench. “I didn’t hear until after people were already pointing fingers at Camilla. I was honestly really shocked.” Elise rolled her head along the back of her chair, the hour long session had drained them all. “You know, Corrin, I  _ still _ haven’t called Rhajat and Hayato.”

     “What?” Azura couldn’t catch herself, her mind cracked against his name. “Hayato was the second victim?”

     Azura had never seen a deeper shade of purple than Elise’s eyes as they went wide and glistened with tears. She yelped like a startled dog and recoiled from Azura, her gloved black hand tried and failed to build a wall between them.

     “No, no, you didn’t just say that,  _ you did not! _ ” 

     “Elise, I’m so sorry.” Corrin rushed down to her sister, arms quick to cradle her from what Azura had thought was an understood given. She had seen gangsters cry before, usually during arrest, the cocky ones, but this many tears for…

     “I think it’s best you give the ladies a moment,” Gunter— the man as massive as he was easy to miss— pulled her from the macabre scene of grief and right back into the now uncomfortable leather couch. 

     “Yes,” Azura noted in a whisper, “I’m very sorry for your loss.” No one replied.

     The club seemed less intimidating on the climb down, the patronage had dwindled to little more than a baker's dozen.The live band as well, singer swapped out for an energetic singer with emerald hair and eyes that managed a gentle catching voice even with only a piano to back her. Elise never spared on talent at least.

     “I did not think she would be so troubled,” Azura fished as she allowed Gunter to escort her towards the bar.

     “Elise and Hayato are fairly close. She dated his sister Rhajat for a time.She's a regular here.”

     Azura took a stool, while Gunter seemed to prefer standing, The possibility he was less guiding her and more holding Azura hostage came to mind.

     “I’ll take a mojito please.” Azura did not wait to see if he would order to turn right around. “Seems like a strange couple, a Nohrian and Hoshidan mobster.Would seem to me to be a source of conflict.”

     “We’re not at war anymore.”

     “You can hate without spilling blood.” 

     Gunter shrugged.

     “Nohrians view conflict as a fact of life, we don’t take it personally. Holding grudges just make the peaceful interiums more tenuous. Fuga seemed to share that world view to some extent.” 

     Azura sucked in a small breath, the urge to poke inside and see what darkness comes out overcoming her self preservation. “Do you feel so dispassionate now, after a Hoshidan gave you that scar?” 

     “Not at all,” he answered with the same cool he did anything else, though his sharp eyes seemed to lose just a bit of their focus. “Garon gave me these scars and he’s dead.”  _ Interesting.  _ “I’ll go see if Corrin is ready to turn in for the evening. I trust you can handle yourself?” 

     Azura raised her new glass and let the taste of mint on the rim be her answer. This trip had been neither as fraught with danger nor as directly informative as she hoped.But in the odd moments, the reactions as opposed to the stories, in the construction on the walls not shattered alibis, she found something to work with and sort through while she watched the emerald girl sing her heart out to the dying late night crowd.

     Until Corrin, of course.

     “Celebrating? Though I don’t think I got you much to celebrate. I don’t suppose Elise will work for an alibi?” Corrin took her seat next to Azura, that same sense of the familiar coming off her as it always did, calming Azura despite how uncalming it should be. It wasn’t terribly difficult to understand why the mobsters used her as a diplomat. “Can I get a vodka tonic?” 

     “No, though I wouldn’t say we have nothing to celebrate. Is Elise alright?” 

     “She’s going to be okay, she just needs to cry it out. She’s on the phone with Rhaj- Hayato’s sister right now.” Corrin smiled and mouthed a thank you as her drink was placed in front of her, heavy stuff considering Elise’s claim of being a lightweight. “So what do we have to celebrate? That smart mind of yours at work, detective?” 

     “Nothing particularly smart, just noticing things that should be true and aren’t. Let’s assume now that your brother Xander is the head of a mafia, and let’s assume he ordered Camilla to kill Fuga and restart the mob war, finally pushing into Dawn Side perhaps. What would you expect him to do in regards to his underbosses?” Azura leaned in to watch Corrin’s expresion, see her own mind at work.

     “I’d have to let them know, especially if this is about being on the offensive,You’d need to have people mobilized, prepared for retaliation. Hypothetically of course.” She was catching on, an aware smile crossing those pink lips.

     “Of course. And as we sit in this impenetrable fortress, does it strike you as mobilized?”

     “No,” Corrin nods, a giddiness striking her. “Sure more staff, but all the construction. If you have time to prepare these, defensive measures would be done, hell being on the defensive at all makes no sense, you’re the one who started it! So Xander must not have done it?”

     “Not quite,” Azure cuts off after another sip of her drink and holds up four fingers. “We do have a restricted possibility space. One, Camilla didn’t do it. Possible, but not free from the burden of proof, figuratively not legally. Two, Xander is an idiot and did not consider that.” 

     “If you knew Xander, you’d know that ‘possibility space’ is at most three—”

     “Three, Camilla commited the murder independently, a long list of shaky but potential motives would need to be confirmed but we’re trying to prove her innocent not guilty, so it lacks the burden of proof in regards to our private investigation.” Corrin’s retort was to suckle on her own drink, fair considering. “Or four,, Xander did not trust Elise to tell her. Elise had a personal relationship with the target, she would not approve of their murder, no?”

     “No she wouldn’t,” Corrin admitted, “but Xander wouldn’t. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I know my brother, he wouldn’t lie to Elise. Keep her in the dark at first sure, but not lie to her after the fact.” 

     “I do believe you,” Azura shot back with a smile, “But not because I trust a mobster to be honest, it’s Elise’s reaction. She knew Fuga was dead, and to prepare for a retaliation, keeping out a critical piece of information like Hayato is poor play.If you’re intending to lie, the most important part is to—”

     “Is to control the narrative!”

     Azura nodded, happy to see Corrin follow along, not that the logic was difficult, but it required a certain willingness to parse and jump forward. A skill one might expect in this field of work, but the feeling of kinship was...pleasant. 

     “We need more information to confirm any of these theories. Too many unknowns, and deduction isn’t evidence.”

     “You really are brilliant.” Azura felt her whole body tense up as Corrin’s arm reached over and pulled her into a hug. Considering the girl’s paleness, Azura always thought she’d somehow feel cold… instead… very warm indeed. Relaxing, too much so, one mojito was too much already it seemed. “Thank you so much. We can really figure this out.”

     “I...suppose we can.” 

     “Aww you two!” Elise's voice sent Azura right back into tension. She’d just relaxed too. “Group hug!” Nohrians were always...so touchy. Elise, for a girl so small, had a very large arm span. “Okay girls, I feel like complete shit so, for tonight, we are having  _ shots _ !”

 

* * *

 

 

     Elise really was honest about how piss poor Corrin is at holding her liquor. The girl might as well been on fire from how red she was after three shots. Last call came just before three, though a slurring Elise swore the two of them could stay the night. Azura, of course, refused. She had work, an overwhelming desire not to spend a night in a mob capital, and as cute as Corrin could be, avoid how handsy her and Elise got the more they drank.

     The issue was Gunter had vanished. What good sense Azura had seemed to vanish when she took Elise’s offer of getting her a ride and not simply, like a sane, capable, not utterly moronic detective she supposedly was, take a taxi.

     Her drive back lacked the same glamour or completeness it had to Windmire. Azura directed the woman— the butch bodyguard Effie— three streets off to avoid telling the head of the queer mob exactly where she lived, not that she couldn’t ask Corrin. Perhaps it was too much to ask that her memory be washed out and boiled under the pressure of Norhian Rye Whiskey, and of course Gunther was a loose end. She had never prepared for him.

     “We’re here, need anything else miss?” Effie punctuated her question with a bite and devoured one shockingly large section of danish. 

     “None, thank you.” 

     “You’re welcome to leave your number on the way out,” Azura glanced at her. “In case you need another ride?”

_      Well _ , Azura considered,  _ she is from the Queer mob. _

     “Despite your charms, I’ll pass. thank you, Effie.” She nodded and Azura shut the door.

     Alone at three in the morning, any street in Valla could feel like a hunting ground, Dusk side or not. It made every car driving by a boon, every streetlight a blessing, and every man she crossed a threat. There was no unlearning it, the fear that kept her moving quickly down Notre drive, and her tenure as a detective reminded her it was warranted. 

     This, however, was the first time in years Azura shared the very Norhian experience of being as scared of police. Something that hit her at full force once she strolled passed Nyx’s house and took just a minute too long admiring the hand dyed art she left hanging out her second story window. Takumi’s car— the police lights gone from the top— stepped out of Azura’s neighborhood gas station. All thoughts of why he would be out here, without a badge, at three AM, on the wrong side of town were filed away as soon as Azura’s eyes scanned over his famous ponytail. She twirled down the back alley, just kept going, and begged he never noticed. 

     Azura’s heart rate never normalized, even after it became clear— as she passed dumpster after dumpster, fire escape after collapsed fire escape— that he was not coming. She almost wished he was, because the man shadowing her steps was definitely not Takumi, given the half a foot taller build. His pace didn’t scream violence, but who walks down an alley in a grid city unless you’re looking to get murdered or the murderer.

_      Curses,  _ Azura could literally count the steps down the road she would have been from her house without the added turn, a five minute affair, simple little stroll passed her partner, what business did he have asking her about a night time walk anyways? None of that mattered when the man following her began to catch up. 

     Behind her, he was a lunge away, maybe a lunge and a half, and ahead the alley way widened and spilled into the broken sidewalk of a dark street. Azura could sprint, make a gamble on someone else just on the other side of the concrete threshold, or that this possible assailant was slower. Not that his dim outline showed any sign of a pained gait.. 

     There was another option. Azura slowed, her cane no longer tapping at the gravel, but clutched in her palm, the handle fitted like the nose of a hammer. Any man who thought to shadow her had best beware. One step too far and she’d show him how use to blood on the pavement she was. 

     Azura twisted her whole body for power, the torque sending the cane handle right into the side of the man’s face. She watched his whole body twist and come crashing into the black brick of the apartment to her left. 

     “God damn it, Detective!” her assailant shouted from the floor as blood seeped through the cracks of his fingers as he held the the flow of a broken nose and hopefully split lips. “I wasn’t going to touch you or anything, just give you a spook, love.” He spoke at a notably sweeter pitch now, looking up with soft chocolate eyes, smooth grey hair, and a gentle, bloody, smile. Azura raised her cane again.

     “I’ve seen you charge into battle after battle, pelted by bullets, but my man I’d never thought you’d be felled by the mightiest of walking canes!” The gratified shouting brought Azura quite a few revelations: that some of the young man’s blood was speckled at her face and also exactly how it felt to look down the barrel of a trench gun.  

     This new man left his chest bare with ornate tattoos, ones Azura intended to memorize for the future police report if she lived to fill it out. Blonde too, though half of Dusk side was. Neither looked particularly Nohrian, hoshidan, or Vallanite for that matter, with divergent accents to boot. 

     “Our darling detective looks convincingly shaken, yes?” The grayed man offered, smiling despite the bloody teeth. Somehow, between the shaking, the fear, the utter displeasure at having blood on her cheeks, Azura regretted not damaging that perfect smile.

     “You let her kick the shit out of you idiot.” A woman’s voice nearly had Azura spinning until she remembered a barrel pointed her way. “Detective Arete, right?” 

     “Yes?” Azura whispered, daring to take a look behind her. The woman was dressed in a glistening leather jacket, face hidden by an embroidered mask that failed to cover her red-brown eyes, and did nothing to abstract the crimson twin ponytails that made her striking at a night like this. Not that Azura would pay that much mind compared to the snub nose on her hip.

     “You know how you’re looking for Camilla?” The red woman’s fist, gloved in a beautiful soft suede black, pulled back, “Don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Remember when I said it’s anachronistic? Gangsters Paradise is an excellent example, Postmodern Jukebox as an hella rendition worth listening to if you’d like to see what it’d sound like filtered through a modern approximation of 1920s jazz  
> One of the things I regret about this story is actually not writing it in first person. I realize Noir fiction just works better with that intensely personal and limited scope. Would you all find it jarring if I switched next chapter? Let me know?  
> I spent a lot of time thinking about Elise’s mob and whether to use the term LGBT or Queer mob, but given the periods I’m pulling from I decided for Queer, I apologize to those that this upsets. Also for homophobia while it’ll be a societal reality it’s not likely to play a huge role. I mostly kept this to relate to how traditionally ethnic/communal mobs form in marginalized communities as a response to their marginalization, both as a force that does what the privileged structure won’t, but also as a parasitic entity that also profits off that desperation. So in keeping with that having the present realities of homophobia (probably of the more 70-90s variety than 20s since I’m pulling from 20-90s crime history fits better as marginalized but also in it’s own early rights movement)  
> That all said let me know what you think! Also thanks so much to TigerLilly for editing this chapter shes a fantastic help and I love her to death thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> “What three big fics, and another genre I’ve totally never been tested in.” Lol this is going to be fun. So big thank you to both TigerLilly and Savvymeme for reading this over for me and for cursing me with the idea in the first place. Beyond that I wanted to clarify some things about the A.U. (Small spoilers for Fates)
> 
> First off, Azura and Corrin are not related, end of story, that twist aint part of this  
> The setting is of course fictionalized and based off of basically an amalgamation of the 20s, 40s, and 80s, taking elements of all the great semi-imagined periods of american crime fiction.  
> Takumi and Hinoka are related, Ryoma and Sakura are related, said groups aren’t related, but they all treat each other like siblings so nothing romantic between them fyi, its just for plot reasons and realism.  
> All the Nohr kids are related of course.  
> Also I haven’t forgotten Takumi has a good side I promise.
> 
> Beyond that things are in flux. I’ll keep you posted. As for posting schedule I don’t have one, but if you look at my history, especially on ff.net where I have more albeit shitty stories, I’ve never not finished a fic that I started so know I will be here again. Let me know what you think and be gentle, I know I’m trash.


End file.
